


Time Doesn't Heal All Wounds

by Huntress69



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dark fic, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sam Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-20
Updated: 2013-03-20
Packaged: 2017-12-05 21:43:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/728224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huntress69/pseuds/Huntress69
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The aftermath of an exorcism forces Sam to reveal traumatic childhood memories of abuse; Dean learns his brother's deepest secret and feels his own guilt...and the need for revenge</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time Doesn't Heal All Wounds

**Author's Note:**

> **Warning:** There is mention of past child abuse

**Disclaimer: Want 'em. Need 'em. Can't have 'em. Nuff said!**

**************

** The Past **

Fifteen years ago....

"I don't want to stay with him, Daddy," eight year old Sam sobbed, tears flowing down his face.

"Stop it, Sammy!" John snapped at him. "I've had it with you crying like an infant."

"Can't I go to Grandma's?"

"No. She lives too far from here." John took Sam's suitcase out of the car. "You'll have a good time with Uncle Andy. Don't you always?"

"NO!" Sam ran off but John caught up with him, trying to hold on to the struggling child. 

"Samuel Edward Winchester, you stop acting like a baby! You will stay with your uncle until your brother and I get back!" 

Sam froze and glared at his father. "Yes sir."

When they returned two days later, John noticed his younger son was quieter then usual and wouldn't let go of Dean, but he shrugged it off to Sam being afraid for Dean. 

After all, it had been Dean's first real hunt.

**~~~~~~~~~~**

Five months later they were on their way back to their mother's brother. John and Dean were going after a firestarter and since they had to go to Kirkland, a small town in Texas, John opted to leave Sam with his uncle again. 

"I don't wanna stay with Uncle Andy," Sam said firmly.

"Aww, c'mon Sam," Dean smiled. "He's a pretty cool guy."

Sam snuggled into his older brother's arms. "He touches me in ways he shouldn't."

"Sammy, Andy's a good guy and good guy's don't do stuff like that. And that's the last time I let you watch movies with me."

"Please Dean, tell Daddy I'm big enough to hunt now. He'll listen to you."

"That's what this is all about, isn't it?" Dean scowled at his younger brother. "You're too young to go...and too young to watch grown-up movies." Dean had let Sam stay up the night before, the two watching a film about child molestation; Dean was convinced that was where the accusation against their uncle had come from. "Now shut up and stop making up stories. It's wrong!"

"I don't lie!"

"I know, Sam," Dean's voice softened, "but Uncle Andy's kind of affectionate. I think you're misunderstanding the whole thing." He hugged his little brother. "See, it's just hugging."

They left Sam the next day, with tears in his eyes once again. And the look he gave Dean made Dean's blood chill. 

Dean had just turned twelve and figured his brother was angry at being left behind. He'd also disregarded the conversation from the night before.

By the time John and Dean returned, three days had passed. 

John held his arms out for a hug. "Did you miss me, Sammy?" 

Sam ignored his father's outstretched arms and ran straight to Dean. He held his brother tightly. "Don't make me stay here anymore, Dean. Please."

**~~~~~~~~~~**

Seven months after that John attempted to leave Sam with his brother-in-law again, but Sam was adamant about not staying. He threw a huge tantrum and this time when he ran it was into traffic, nearly getting hit by a car. Neither John nor Dean could calm him down; the boy was terrified. 

Dean finally lay down with his brother, soothing him until Sam fell asleep, then quietly left with his father.

Sam woke up and glanced out the window, seeing his father and brother getting into the car. He ran out of the bedroom and took a tumble down the stairs, making a bit of noise.

"Oh no you don't, Sam. You have to stay."

Sam panicked at the sound of his uncle's voice and couldn't get the door unlocked. As Andrew came closer, Sam ran to the window and opened it, climbing out. He stared at the car, meeting Dean's eyes as Dean stuck his head out the window. He stood there in his pajamas and then ran after the car, and he kept running until his legs gave out on him and he stumbled to the ground.

"Dad stop!" Dean almost fell out of the car and ran to his brother; Sam was hysterical.

"Sam, Sammy don't cry."

"I DON'T WANNA STAY!" Sam wailed. "DON'T LEAVE ME DEAN!"

Dean attempted to untangle himself from Sam's arms but Sam held on like a vise. "I'm here, Sam." Dean picked him up and carried Sam into the house, tucking him into bed.

"You won't go, right Dean? You'll stay here with me?"

Dean didn't want to promise him that. He figured he and John would leave once Sam had fallen asleep. "Go to sleep, Sammy." He stroked Sam's back until Sam fell asleep, wanting to exorcise whatever demons were haunting his kid brother. He heard the knock on the door, seeing his uncle standing there with a smile. 

"Dean, your father's ready to leave now. Sam will be all right."

Dean slid out of bed and went downstairs, leaving his uncle alone with his brother. "Dad, Sam's going to freak when he finds out we're gone."

"Your brother will be fine. He's just overly concerned about us is all." In John's mind this was the only plausible explanation.

Fifteen minutes later Dean was rifling his backpack. "Dad, we have to go back. I forgot my knife. It's with the rest of my stuff."

"Dean, I have another," John nodded. "Actually, I have quite a few."

"No, this is the one you gave me before my first hunt. It's my lucky knife. Please?"

"Fine, we'll go back and get it." John smiled at his elder son. "You just want to make sure Sam's okay, don't you?"

"I guess," Dean admitted. "But I **really** did leave my knife." Dean snuck into the house and silently went upstairs. He had second thoughts about leaving his brother now. Slowly opening the door he froze. "What are you doing in here?" Dean asked his uncle, who was sitting on Sam's bed, his hand under Sam's shirt.

"He had a nightmare. I figured rubbing his back would get him back to sleep."

Dean's glare made Andrew shiver a bit; the boy looked dead serious, like a young version of John. "Nobody touches Sam but me."

Andrew quickly got out of Dean's way as he came over, leaving Dean to sit beside Sam, who sat up abruptly and wrapped his arms around Dean's neck, almost choking him. "Why'd ya leave? You said you wouldn't leave!"

Dean bit his lower lip to stave off his own tears. Crying now would further upset his sobbing brother. "Aww, Sammy," Dean rocked him, petting his hair, his voice surprisingly soothing. "It's okay. I'm sorry I left."

"Where's daddy?"

"He's downstairs. I'll go get him."

"NO!" Sam refused to let go, wrapping his legs around Dean's waist to hold him there.

"Okay, Sam. **We'll** go and get him." 

Dean carried his brother downstairs, and missed the threatening look Andrew gave Sam. 

"Sammy...." John smiled and reached for his young son; Sam shook his head and buried his face in Dean's shoulder. 

Dean was doing his best to carry his brother. "He won't let go of me. I don't know why."

John tried to pry him loose, but Sam began to fight him, nearly knocking Dean down. "NO! I WON'T STAY!" Sam began to sob again, thankful Dean had held tight. 

Andrew just shrugged as John reluctantly agreed and went upstairs to gather Sam's things. Nobody else saw the same look he directed at Sam; the look that promised retribution if he ever told.

"Out to the car NOW!" Sam ordered.

"Okay, Sammy." Dean did as he was told.

Sam was never left with anyone again. 

As for Dean, he began to sleep with his knife under his pillow and Sam in his bed. He held Sam closely, soothing him back to sleep when Sam had nightmares, something John had never been able to achieve. 

~~~~~~~~~~

** The Present **

It was a vicious exorcism, the worst the Winchester's, all three, had ever experienced. 

The young boy was possessed by a protector spirit, which really wasn't a demon at all, but, as it's name implied, protected the one it possessed. The problem with this type of possession, was that the possessed invited the spirit inside and was too frightened to allow it to leave. 

In this case the child was a victim of molestation and his parents hadn't believed him, as the accused was the town sheriff. And in the time he had been possessed, numerous children had come forth with their own accusations. There was no time for an arrest, because the sheriff hung himself, leaving a letter confessing to what he had done. 

But that hadn't stopped the spirit from staying within the boy.

During the exorcism, the spirit had taunted Sam, asking him questions about being abandoned, telling him that there were "more horrific things then those that hide in your closet or under your bed," and that "farmhouses and locked doors can be just as scary."

Sam had grown confused, then angry, when more verbal abuse was aimed directly at him and he couldn't concentrate on the exorcism ritual, making a mess of his Latin. 

It had gotten so bad that John and Dean made Sam leave and finished on their own. 

In the end the spirit was gone, but the young boy was a psychological mess, as were his parents. 

Dean had grown angry at the boy's parents and blamed them, wondering how they could call their son a liar. Their excuse, that the sheriff was a "pillar of the community and wouldn't do such a thing," disgusted him, and he flat out told them they didn't deserve to have a child if they couldn't trust in him. John and Sam had to manhandle him out of the house because Dean was ready to physically injure both parents. 

They had all been staying at a local motel, but Dean was insistent they leave the town, get as far away as possible. He and Sam both apologized to John for **ever** criticizing his parenting skills. For all his faults, and there were many, John Winchester had never been abusive and had **never** disbelieved his sons about anything. 

They hit the road and didn't stop for almost ten hours, finally stopping because rain was coming down in buckets and the road was almost non-visible.

There was only one room available and they gratefully took it, Sam flopping down on one bed, Dean beside him, John taking the other. 

**~~~~~~~~~~**

Sometime during the night, Sam began to whimper in his sleep, hyperventilating, whispering the word "Don't" again and again. He finally sat up, wide awake, tears streaming down his face. 

"Sammy?" John asked quietly. "A vision?"

"I...I didn't remember. I...oh God, I blocked it out. I didn't want it to be real so I made it go away in my head." 

John went to wet a cloth and get Advil for his younger son. He had just stood and turned away when he heard a resounding smack and turned back to see Dean flat on the floor, Sam sitting atop him, throwing wild punches. 

"IT WAS YOUR FAULT!" Sam screamed.

Dean had blocked most of Sam's punches, but now he caught both of Sam's wrists, flipping them over so he was atop Sam. "STOP IT, SAMMY!" 

Sam managed to buck Dean off, but this time John was ready and grabbed his younger son, falling on the bed with him, restraining him. 

"Sam, please calm down," John tried to soothe, while holding Sam still. 

Dean reached out for him and Sam shirked away. "I hate you," he growled. "I told you and you called me a liar." Sam had stopped struggling and his body calmed somewhat. 

"Sam, you got me kind of confused here," Dean admitted, "and dad also."

"Chris Embry said the sheriff touched him and you believed him, no questions asked. Your own brother tells you the same thing and you call him a liar."

"You never told me...." Dean started.

"I did tell you, Dean." Sam's voice was gritty and low. "I told you he was touching me. You told me to stop making things up, that he was just being affectionate. I hated you then for not believing ME and I hate you now for believing THAT KID!"

"Who hurt you, Sam?" John's voice held an edge, with a raw anger the boys rarely heard. 

Sam met the darkened eyes of his father. Now he truly felt like the weaker son in his father's eyes, the son who could never take care of himself. He got free of John's arms and barreled forward, shoving past Dean and taking off on foot, wanting and needing to run.

"Dean?" John focused on his older son. "Did Sammy tell you he was being...that someone....?" He couldn't bring himself to use the word 'molested'.

All the color literally drained from Dean's face as the long-buried memory came to the surface. "He was...dad, he was eight...." Dean shook his head, wanting to deny the memory....

_"He touches me in ways he shouldn't."_

_"Sammy, Andy's a good guy and good guy's don't do stuff like that."_

_"I don't lie!"_

_"Stop making up stories. It's wrong!"_

"I didn't believe him." Dean backed away from his father. "He told me and I didn't...oh God, what did I do?" He stumbled to the bathroom, barely making it before he puked his guts up. He cleaned up, went back into the room and faced his father. "It was all my fault. I even...that last night, when I went to check on Sammy, he had his hand under Sammy's pajama top. He said he was rubbing Sam's back."

"Who, Dean?" John asked. "Who did this to Sam?"

Dean's upper lip curled. "Andrew. Fucking well-respected Uncle Andrew."

"Andrew?" John shook his head. "Dean, you have to be wrong about that. Andy would never...."

"That's what I told Sam, dad. I told him good guys didn't do stuff like that and he had it all wrong." Dean was at a loss, his insides churning, fighting the urge to throw up again. 

John felt nauseous himself and sat on the edge of the bed. "I...all those times Sam said he didn't want to stay there and I never asked him why. I just assumed he didn't want to be left behind. All I had to do was ask him and he would have told me."

"No," Sam said as he returned to the room, "I wouldn't have. He said the state would take me and Dean away from you if I told, split us up and we'd never see each other again."

John's eyes moved to his younger son's feet. "Sam, you're bleeding."

"I guess that's what I get for running barefoot."

"C'mon, Sam," Dean said, reaching for him, "let's get you cleaned up."

"Don't touch me." Sam was angry and spat the words without thinking. "I can take care of myself. I don't need you anymore." He went into the bathroom and shut the door.

Dean stared at the closed door, totally lost. Sam had **never** refused his help for anything. "I...." Dean felt the tears in his eyes. "I have to get out of here." He put his sneakers on, eyes lowered, unable to meet his father's eyes. "He told me and just like that kid's parents, I told him to stop making up stories. He's right. He doesn't need me to fuck up his life anymore." Dean fled before John could stop him. 

John banged on the bathroom door and when he got no response, he kicked it in, ready to scream at his younger son for the cruel words he'd spoken. Instead he found Sam sitting on the floor, knees drawn up, sobbing. 

John knelt down, taking Sam into his arms, rocking him back and forth. "Sammy, it wasn't your fault. You were a kid, just like Dean."

Sam's head shot up and he looked into the main room. "Where's Dean?" He pushed his father away and crawled into the corner. "I WANT DEAN!" 

"He went out to clear his head."

"I don't want him to go away. Please don't make him go away, dad."

"No, Sammy, never."

"I didn't mean to say those things to him. Make him come back."

John took Sam into his arms again. "He'll be back, Sam. He wouldn't leave you."

"I do need him, dad. I need him so much."

"I know, Sam. Oh God, I know." John managed to calm Sam down somewhat, cleaning the bottoms of his feet and bandaging them. He brought Sam to the bed and lay down with him, rubbing his back, soothing as best he could, thankful when sleep finally overtook his younger son. 

Dean came back in the middle of the night, and John half expected his elder son to be drunk or stoned, but Dean was cold sober. He immediately picked up his duffel and headed back out, but John followed. 

"Where are you going?"

"Away. Away from here, away from Sam. I fucked up his life enough."

"You were twelve years old, Dean."

"And that makes it okay?" Dean slung his duffel over his shoulder and began to walk away, but John was **not** going to allow that to happen. 

Grabbing the duffel from Dean's shoulder, John spun him around and shoved him backwards. "What the fuck is wrong with you? Your brother is hurting and you're ready to abandon him." 

"It's like he said, he doesn't need me."

"You're wrong." John kept his voice even and calm. "And if you leave him, you'll break him. He won't be able to cope with it, Dean."

"Didn't I damage him enough? He tells me he's being molested and I brush him off. What kind of brother am I?"

"Fine," John nodded. "You want to leave, go ahead. But **you** will tell your brother you're going away and why."

"Okay," Dean agreed, heading into the room. He sat down beside Sam, seeing that his brother was fully awake and staring at him. "I...." Dean recognized the look Sam gave him; it was the same look he got all those times they left Sam with Andrew. "I'm sorry, Sammy. I should have believed you."

"I'm sorry for what I said." Sam whispered. "Please don't leave me. I'm so...Dean, I'm so afraid of being alone." He sat up and slid his arms over Dean's shoulders. "I don't want to be alone."

"Hush, Sam, it'll be okay." Dean returned the hug, afraid now to let his brother go. 

"Promise me you won't leave."

"I...."

"PROMISE ME!"

"I won't leave ya, Sam."

Sam pulled back and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "Promise me," he reiterated, knowing that one phrase was like gospel to Dean; he never broke his word to Sam.

"I promise you, Sam. I won't leave."

"Lay down with me, like you used to?" Sam sniffled. "Keep the bad dreams away?"

"Not a problem, little brother." Dean held onto him, laying Sam's head on his chest, like when they were younger. "No bad dreams tonight, Sam. Big brother's going to make it all okay. I don't know how, but I will."

John stood in the doorway, wiping away the lone tear that ran down his face. Yeah, he may have been a bastard at times, maybe he was drunk too much and didn't give them enough affection, but judging by what he'd just witnessed, he hadn't done a half-bad job of raising them. He was about to shut the door when he heard Sam's voice. 

"That goes for you too, dad."

John turned and nodded. "I promise also, Sammy. I'm just going to sit outside for a while."

"Okay." Sam closed his eyes, but he didn't sleep this time. He waited for Dean to drop off, then joined his father. "It wasn't your fault either, you know."

"I should have seen it, Sam. Looking back, he was **always** so fucking touchy-feely with you. I never even thought to ask."

Sam opted to change the subject. "So, heard from Bobby? When is Dean going to get his baby back? That semi didn't permanently damage her, did it?" It had been three months since that fateful day. Once they were all out of the hospital, Dean had bitched about his car, calling Bobby on a daily basis until Bobby threatened to send her to the scrap heap. 

"It was going to be a surprise, Sam," John smiled. "Bobby says she's all done. Our next stop is Rockham, where the Impala awaits it's master. And she's got an upgraded, and well hidden, weapons compartment."

"That's good," Sam finally smiled himself. "Dean hates your new truck."

"I know, Sam. And you're on your own again afterwards."

"I don't understand, dad. I thought we were going to stick together."

"We are," John replied, "but I need some time to fix up **this** truck like the other. I have weapons to restock and that won't be easy. Do you know how long it took me to find an Uzi?"

"My Uzi." 

"Yes, Sam," John agreed, " **yours**."

Sam stood up to go back inside. "I don't blame you, dad, and please don't blame yourself."

"I'll do my best, son."

"Not good enough."

"It'll have to do for now."

"Just so you know, dad," Sam actually grinned at his father, "I love you. I thought I should tell you."

"I know that, Sam and I...." John sighed. "I love you too, little one."

Sam went inside and lay down next to Dean, Dean rolling into his arms and holding tight. He stroked Dean's hair, placing a kiss to the top of his head. Dean began to fidget and Sam whispered, "It works both ways. I'll keep your bad dreams away also." Dean quieted at the words and snuggled in closer. 

By morning, both boys seemed calmer, although they didn't talk much. But after a few hours in the truck, Sam opened up. 

He told them what had happened all those years ago. The threats from Andrew, to Dean and their father if Sam told, the threats to Sam himself. 

God, John felt Sam's abandonment, his sadness, his anger...all of his pain.

Andrew had told Sam that his father wanted this; why else would he continue to leave Sam there? He wanted Sam to be a man and this was what men did with each other. 

Sam told them the first time was at the tender age of seven. Andrew had fondled Sam, made Sam touch him...oh God, he'd hurt Sam and afterwards Sam cried for Dean and dad, but nobody came. 

"I'm here now, Sammy, and I'm hoping you can forgive me." Dean's voice was breaking.

"I do, I really do." Sam took a deep breath and smiled. "It wasn't your fault." He then changed the subject to something totally innocuous. 

Dean asked where they were heading to, and neither his father or brother would tell him, so he stopped asking. It was only when he saw the exit for Rockham that his whole face lit up and a wide grin split his face.

**~~~~~~~~~~**

"Oh, baby," Dean was running his hand over the Impala's hood, "you look sooo good."

"She's a car, Dean," Bobby laughed, "not a piece of ass."

"If Dean could screw her," Sam laughed also, "he would."

"Don't you listen to them, sweetness," Dean crooned, as he slid into the driver's seat, smoothing his palm over the dash. "Did you miss me?" Dean's eyes moved down and they grew wide. "Why is there a CD player in my car?" He growled at Sam. "Didn't we talk about this? She's a classic, not some modern day...."

"Shut the fuck up, Dean," Bobby told him, "and let me show you what I did to her." He pulled Dean to the back and opened the trunk. "Check this out." He flipped a switch in the trunk and the bottom opened to reveal a full weapons stash. "It's just a few things for now, just to get you started. I'm sure you'll overload her in no time."

"AN UZI!" Sam shouted and took it out, deftly loading it. "MINE!"

Dean reached inside. "A machete." He swiped it in the air. "Slice and dice any demon."

"Holy water, stakes and...." Sam smiled. "Silver bullets?"

"You have an even dozen, Sammy," Bobby nodded. 

"It's Sam!"

"I used to clean your shitty diapers and I'll call you what I want." Bobby snickered. "You had the prettiest little ass." His laughter faded when he saw the look on Sam's face. 

Sam dropped the gun. "He used to say that." Sam's eyes grew dark and without thinking he lunged for Bobby, holding him by the throat. "Don't you EVER say that again."

"Sam, let him go," Dean said calmly, his hand on Sam's arm. "He didn't mean anything by it."

Sam caught himself and let Bobby go. "I'm sorry, Bobby," he almost whispered. "I, uh...."

"S'okay, Sam," Bobby answered as he took a breath. 

"C'mon, bro'," Dean said, leading Sam away. "Let's take a walk, okay?"

"You want to tell me what that was all about, Johnny?" Bobby asked. 

John nearly didn't answer, but Bobby was probably his oldest living friend. They'd known each other since childhood. "Mary's brother."

"Andrew?"

"We...we had an exorcism and the kid...." 

"You look like you could use a drink, my friend."

"Got anything stronger?" John asked with a small smile. 

"And face a lecture from your youngest on the evils of illegal substances? I don't think so." Bobby allowed himself a smile. "Bourbon will have to do."

**~~~~~~~~~~**

"Sam?" Dean finally stopped, the two sitting along the riverbank. "It's going to be okay, you know. We're going to get past it."

"Easy for you to say," Sam replied, shaking his head. "He never...not to you."

"I'm going to kill him," Dean stated flatly. "I'm going to flay the skin from his bones and listen to him scream, make him pay for what he did to you."

Sam grew frightened at the look in Dean's eyes. His brother was very serious. "No, Dean."

"Why shouldn't I Sam? Give me one reason why I shouldn't make him pay!"

"Because you're not a cold-blooded killer."

"I'm not?" Dean actually laughed out loud. 

"There's a difference between snuffing a poltergeist and outright murder. And I don't care what you say, that's not you."

"You don't know me, Sam."

"Yeah, I do." Sam knelt behind his brother, his hands resting on Dean's shoulders. "No matter what, you're a good man, Dean, with a pure heart, and murder would truly taint your soul."

"Taint my soul?" Dean turned his head. "My soul is already tainted or hadn't you noticed?"

"Not like that, Dean." Sam slid his arms over Dean's shoulders, resting his head there. "See, I don't think we're bound for Hell in the afterlife, but if you do this...." Sam didn't even think as his lips began to move along Dean's neck. "Then I'll have to do something terrible so we burn together. I don't want a set of wings if you have horns."

"You're a sick fucker, you know that?" Dean laughed, but this time it was a (sort of) happy sound. "And what are you doing?"

"Kissing your neck."

"And why are you kissing my neck?"

"Because you're head is turned around and I can't reach your lips."

"What?" Dean turned his head and was greeted by a set of warm lips upon his. "Jesus, Sam, what are you doing?"

"I love you."

Dean pulled away abruptly and jumped to his feet. "Are you fucking nuts?!"

"You don't love me?"

"Not like that. Sammy, we're brothers."

"I know that."

"No, I don't think you do. **Brothers**. As in siblings don't do this because it's incest."

Sam leaned forward, lips ghosting over Dean's. "Please don't say no to me."

"Sam, we can't. And don't do it again, I mean it." Dean tried to sound forceful, but it came out like a squeak. 

Sam's fingers threaded in Dean's hair, dragging their mouths close. "Kiss me, Dean and make it good." 

Dean was ready to refuse, to list a hundred reasons why he and Sam shouldn't do this, why it was wrong, immoral, illegal, but all he managed to do was moan into Sam's mouth. 

Sam pulled back, framing Dean's face in his palms. "Please Dean, do this for me." His voice grew a bit lower, almost sad. "Nobody's ever touched me but him; I never let **anybody**...."

"What about Jess?" Dean asked. 

"We were waiting until we got married; all we did was share a bed, nothing more," Sam replied. "I want you to touch me, to show me how good it can be."

"Sam, I don't know if I'm the one who should do this."

"You're the ONLY one, Dean. You love me purely and that's what I need."

"God, Sam, you are so wrong about that." He initiated a kiss this time and dragged Sam to the ground, so both were on their knees, facing each other. "What I feel for you, the truth of it all, what I have **always** felt for you, is anything **but** pure." Dean slid one hand up along Sam's back, pulling Sam's mouth to his again. His other arm wrapped around Sam's waist, holding him still. His body undulated against Sam's, deepening the kisses, barely giving Sam a chance to catch a breath. Finally letting go of those soft lips, he took Sam's hands in his and kissed each palm, maneuvering Sam into his lap. Dean began to rotate his hips, pressing his dick against Sam's, feeling Sam grow harder in his pants. Soft kisses to Sam's face, to his neck, his lips. He took Sam's mouth hard, feeling Sam's body responding to him, moving **with** him...it was enough to send him over the edge, and he felt the wetness in his pants. As the two slowed, Dean glanced down...and saw they were both wet. "You creamed in your jeans for me." 

"Only for you, Dean." This declaration, as with anything Sam would say, was from the heart. 

So Dean kissed him again. "I love you, Sam. I have **always** loved you like this. Since I can remember. But I always had to hide it."

"No more, Dean. No more." Another kiss and Sam took Dean by the hand, the two getting to their feet and heading back to the house. They went inside and both met the eyes of John and Bobby. No words were said as Dean held Sam's hand and led him into the bedroom.

"It took 'em long enough," Bobby smirked. "You owe me a blow-job."

"Say what?!"

"Johnny, we made a bet about ten years ago. I said they'd be screwing like rabbits some day, you said they wouldn't and the bet was you on your knees, sucking me dry."

"I recall it differently," John smiled. "I said by the time Dean was thirty, you said forty. **You** owe **me** the blow-job."

"How about we just get each other off and call it even."

"How about," John pulled Bobby to his feet and pretty much shoved him into the other bedroom, "you be nice or I tie you to the bed."

**~~~~~~~~~~**

Dean shut the door behind them, leaning Sam against it. More soft kisses, which quickly became hard and deep. Fingers pulling at shirts. Said shirts flung aside. Bare chests touching, two moans filling the room. Four hands pulling at two pair of pants. Pants tossed aside, followed quickly by underwear. Two sweat slicked bodies falling on the bed, moving as one. Cocks making first contact, two screams of pleasure. 

Dean quickly took control, rolling Sam under him, humping as if his life depended on it. He felt Sam arch his body, felt the wetness between them. "Ah, my sweet Sam," Dean murmured. He slid his hand down, fingers moving through the cream, shifting his hand underneath...and pausing.

"Dean, it's all right. I want you to...I need you to do this."

"God, Sam, you have no fucking idea how much I love you." 

"Yeah, I do," Sam grinned and kissed his brother again. "Make everything okay, Dean. Just like you always do."

"Sam, no lube."

"Please...."

"Okay...okay, Sam...." Dean teased Sam's hole, his fingers wet with come, sliding in, pulling out, then shoving deep. Again and again, scissoring them, until Sam was begging for more. His dick slid between Sam's legs, resting against the tightness, spreading Sam's seed over his hardness. "I want in." 

Sam opened his mouth, but only nodded. By this point, he had lost the power of speech. 

Dean pushed Sam's legs against his chest, meeting Sam's eyes. He had to see Sam's face, had to know it was real. "Deep breath baby...and relax." He watching his dick slide in, rotating his hips, feeling Sam open to him. Dean was pleasantly surprised at how easily he was accepted, how relaxed Sam was. "You okay, Sam? Any pain?" 

"A little," Sam whispered, hands rubbing Dean's shoulders. "Nothing I can't handle." 

"You're amazing," Dean sighed. The sigh quickly turned into a moan, as Sam clenched his ass, pulling Dean balls-deep. "Sam, baby, next time warn me, would you?" Sam did it again, Dean shouting, pounding harder, different angles, looking for that pleasure spot. He knew he'd found it when Sam screamed like an animal and began to writhe and moan like he was in heat. Dean nearly lost his grip, but held tighter, hitting the same spot, body covering Sam's, lips stealing Sam's breath again. Returning to his knees, Dean pulled Sam's legs to his shoulders, biting his inner thighs, hearing more shouts of pleasure, more encouragements. Whispers of "deeper, harder, more...." driving him beyond the edge at this point. He pounded as hard as he could, taking Sam's dick in his grip, stroking hard, feeling Sam's hand wrap around his. 

"FUCK ME!" 

The filthiest of phrases, coming from the lips of his baby brother and Dean felt his release within Sam, Sam feeling the warmth of Dean's seed within him, sending him over the edge with Dean. Both men continuing to stroke Sam as Sam's seed shot over their hands. 

Dean felt himself grow soft, gently pulling back, groaning from the loss of tight heat. He slid Sam's legs from his shoulders, laying beside him. "That was making love." 

Sam placed his hand on Dean's cheek, bringing their lips close. "Thank you," he whispered, before placing the softest of kisses on Dean's lips. He snuggled into Dean's chest. "Wanna sleep." 

Dean wrapped his arm around Sam, holding him closer, kissing the top of his head. "Sweet dreams Sam." 

"I love you." 

"Me too." 

It was a while before Dean fell asleep. He was too busy watching Sam in the moonlight. When he was sure Sam had fallen into a deep sleep, Dean crept out of bed, leaving the covers turned down. He turned on the bathroom light, glancing at Sam. Dean sighed as he saw the satiated look, coupled with the innocence that was still there. 'You look like an angel.' He wet a cloth, gently wiping his brother clean, smiling as the exhausted Sam slept right through it.

**~~~~~~~~~~**

"Hey," Dean smiled as he opened his eyes, seeing Sam staring at him. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I am." He leaned in for a kiss. "Make love to me again?"

"You sure, Sammy?"

"Oh yes...."

Dean nuzzled Sam's neck, taking Sam's hand, sucking on each finger, finishing with a lick to the palm, making Sam moan. He kissed his way down Sam's body, leaving bite marks along the way and swallowed Sam in one movement, Sam bracing his hands on Dean's shoulders. He sucked hard, leaving trails of saliva along the length, slicking Sam's dick. Dean pulled away, dragging Sam to the bedroom, pushing him flat on the bed. He crawled between Sam's legs, resuming the mind-numbing blow-job. 

Sam was losing his mind. Each time he felt his orgasm, Dean knew too, and stopped sucking, bringing him back from the edge. Once he was calm, Dean went on with the blow-job. Sam finally gave up, and lay back, closing his eyes, blocking out everything but that wet mouth, which was bringing him to Nirvana. 

Dean glanced up at his lover, teasing the tip of Sam's dick with his tongue. He wet two fingers, reaching back, teasing his own opening. His mouth returned full force to Sam's dick, as his fingers pushed their way deeply inside himself. Covering Sam's body with his own, he kissed Sam deep, slowly shifting to his knees. Reaching behind himself, he held Sam's dick steady. "Wanna ride you." He positioned his ass above Sam's hardened shaft, slowly sinking down, biting his lower lip to stave off the pain. 

Sam watched Dean with widened eyes, honored, and more then a bit surprised that Dean would bottom at all, let alone so soon. He smiled, grabbing Dean's ass, kneading the cheeks, spreading Dean, allowing Dean to impale himself. Sam was soon beyond Nirvana...he was in total ecstasy. 

Dean was teetering between pain and pleasure, rocking back and forth, easing his body down. Finally filled with Sam's impressive dick, he closed his eyes, and just let himself feel. The pain slowly left him, the pleasure taking over. "Ohh...so good...mmm...." He clenched his ass hard. "Never knew it felt this way...ahhh...." He lifted himself halfway up and slowly sat back down, undulating his hips, hearing the moans from beneath him...and one whispered word. 

"Never?" 

Dean began to grind his ass atop Sam's dick, reaching back to stroke Sam's balls. "Never bottomed before...oh yeah, that's good...never felt that safe with anyone...." Dean wrapped his hand around his dick, jerking himself off. "I knew you'd take good care of me." 

"I'll always take care of you, Dean." Sam emphasized this by pulling Dean's hand from his dick, replacing it with own. He jerked Dean hard, his other hand caressing Dean's ass. His own body was responding now, meeting Dean's movements. 

"Oh God Sam!! So hard...so deep inside me...." Dean shifted, Sam hitting his prostate, and he shot all over Sam's hand and chest. Sam responded in kind, filling Dean. Dean leaned down, kissing Sam, slowly shifting his body off Sam. He was sore, but happy, and collapsed on his back, smiling at Sam, who looked like he was in shock. "Sam, you okay?" 

Sam gave him a dopey grin. "Never better." They came together for a hug, then jumped as they heard a crash from the next room. 

"YOU BROKE THE BED!"

"IT WAS YOUR FAT ASS THAT DID IT!"

"STAY CUFFED TO THE FUCKING BED ALL NIGHT!"

"KISS MY ASS!"

"BEEN THERE, DONE THAT!"

"So," Sam snickered, "dad and Bobby...."

"Dad and **everybody** ," Dean sighed. "And you once called me a slut?" 

"Oh God, we are such a fucked up family."

"I wouldn't have it any other way, Sammy."

**~~~~~~~~~~**

Two months later, Andrew Carstairs was on his way out for the evening when he heard a noise behind him. Before he could turn around, his world went black. He awoke tied to a tree, John standing before him. 

"You touched my Sammy with your filth, made him impure." 

"John, this is insane. What are you doing?!"

John ignored him and anointed Andrew's face with blood and ripped his shirt open, doing the same to his chest. 

Andrew tried to get free but it was impossible; nobody had ever been able to undo John Winchester's knots.

"You raped my son, took my baby's innocence." John stripped off Andrew's shoes and pants, anointing the rest of his body. "You tainted his very soul...and betrayed my trust in you." 

"Dad?" John turned to face Dean, who just shrugged. "Sorry I'm late."

"Dean, you have to help," Andrew begged. 

"You're right, I do." Dean walked over and paused before his uncle. "You're a little rusty, dad. You forgot one." He dipped his fingers in the blood, "This is for my sweet Sammy," and made one last sign on Andrew's chest. 

They heard the wail.

"What is that?" Andrew asked, eyes wide and full of fear.

"Your fate, you perverted son-of-a-bitch," John told him. "Nobody hurts my boys." He and Dean hid in the shadows, waiting for the demon to come claim it's final sacrifice before they filled it with rocksalt.

"Burn in Hell," Dean muttered, watching the demon tear his uncle to pieces before he and his father shot and burned it. "He deserved worse."

"Where's your brother?"

"Sleeping in a motel one hundred and forty-seven miles from here. He thinks I went out to hustle a few pool games."

"He can never know what happened tonight, Dean."

"I know, dad." Dean paused. "Dad? Do you think...you think we're going to Hell?"

"I asked Jim that once," John smiled, "and he said the good, the **truly** good at heart, would never go, no matter what they did when they were alive. Why?"

"No special reason. I just wanted to know."

"I'll rendezvous with you and your brother in Lawrence in two days."

"See you then, dad." 

They each got into their respective vehicles and drove off in opposite directions.

Andrew Carstairs disappeared, seemingly into thin air, and Sam never asked his brother or father about it. 

He knew the Winchester's protected their own and didn't need to know anything else.

**FIN**


End file.
